


snapshots from an alternate reality

by Rethira



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Stan Pines Goes Through The Portal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: it's instinct





	snapshots from an alternate reality

**Author's Note:**

> xpost from tumblr

it’s pure instinct that has stan jumping after ford. stan’s never been great at planning ahead. so they collide midair and stan’s momentum sends them spinning round like a dreidel, ford still yelling and the both of them getting closer and closer to ford’s weird glowing portal thing whatever

it’s pure instinct that has stan hike his legs up and then kick ford away from him

ford yelps, sailing backwards through the air, clutching his stomach. his eyes go wide, and he starts to yell, “sta-”

there’s a moment of silence when stan hits the portal. ford’s voice cuts out and there’s just _nothing_ and then-

* * *

there’s no food in the nightmare realm. no water either. those first few days stan had… well, ain’t nothing there he’s gonna talk about with anyone ever again. did some things stan isn’t proud of but. but.

there are other… refugees. couple of them gave stan a wristwatch like thing. beeps whenever a rift opens and spits something out, which happens pretty much constantly. nightmare realm is a magnet for lost things. luckily that includes shit like that plate of spaghetti you put down and forgot, that cup of coffee you _swear_ you never drank and every single missing sock ever lost throughout time, space and the multiverse

hey at least stan’s never gonna have cold feet again, right? right?

okay yeah this place sucks

(but at least it’s _stan_ stuck here, and not ford. only worthwhile thing stan’s ever done in his life. at least he spared ford _this_ )

* * *

there aren’t any days in the nightmare realm. aren’t any nights either. stan gave up trying to figure out how long he’s been here a while ago (or maybe it was yesterday? eh who knows)

but stan’s still gotta sleep. not… not fun. not like stan’s enjoyed sleeping (and dreaming) for ten years now but the nightmare realm sure does live up to its name. stan doesn’t think he’s had a normal dream since-

(that first ‘night’ stan’d slept fitfully. he’d closed his eyes and been home again. ford waiting on the doorstep, ma sitting in the upstairs window. pa just visible behind the frosted glass. ford ran down to meet him and said-

except it wasn’t ford. it was something wearing his face and his voice and saying, “stan, stan, stanley. boy you sure do mess things up, don’t you? couldn’t even do this _one thing_ right for me,” and ford’s eyes had been yellow slits and so were ma’s in the window, and so were pa’s in the shop staring at stan and laughing with ford’s voice, all of them laughing with _ford’s voice_ )

eh. dreams are overrated

* * *

it’s nothing conscious on stan’s part. his best ideas are that way - instinct. an animal defending itself. ensuring its survival

(taking ford and going to the beach, running from that look in rico’s eyes, shoving everything in his car and driving to oregon, jumping after ford)

but one of the other refugees takes a walk in stan’s mind and stan ( _get out get out GET OUT_ ) stan _knows_. feels like fingers in his brain, cipher strolling through his soul. they don’t mean anything by it, it’s their fucking invasive normal way of getting to know each other

but the gangly legged tapir thing that went in isn’t the same as the one who comes out

they didn’t ask permission so stan doesn’t feel too bad for that. but the tapir stares at stan wide eyed, nose scrunched up in an expression of fear and squeaks, “why is it like _that”_

(they explain, haltingly, that stan’s mind is like… a maze. a trap. looks simple, but the wrong step here, the wrong word there- suddenly the trap’s sprung and closed around you, dragging you down and spitting you out)

“did…,” the tapir starts, “did you really chew your way out of a wheel-box?”

* * *

cipher doesn’t visit stan’s dreams much. just often enough for stan to never quite relax. but he never leaves him alone either. little fucker’s like a cockroach, but worse

(once and only once does cipher try to get into stan’s mind. he could crack stan’s mind like an egg, he says, but when he gets in- stan falls in too, faces bill cipher on the only even playing field they’ll ever have, and every nightmare stan’s ever had, ever dream he’s ever broken, every thought and feeling and memory stan’s ever locked away wakes up and turns to cipher in one sickening movement. the weight of them all clings and bursts and burns as stan strides forward and punches cipher _right in the fucking eye_ , everything stan is and was and ever will be shrieking in disjointed harmony, _GET OUT_ )

in dreams, cipher comes dressed in ford’s skin (or ma’s or pa’s or shermie’s or rico’s or jorge’s or or or or or or or or) and ford’s face and ford’s voice, and his eyes are yellow slits and everything he touches warps and twists and unravels

they’re on the swings when cipher turns ford’s head and says, “he’s not coming for you, knucklehead. ol’ sixer’s too _scared_. he’s gonna leave you here **f̛̝͎͎̝͕̫̖̹͖̓̽͗̆͒̄͐̕͜o͈̣̗͖̙͎͌̎̍̇̈́̽͛̿̕r̞͉̟̍͋̋͋̅͟ͅe̡̖͔̱̤̲̯̬̲̻͑̎̃̐̆̒̕͡v̷̨̟̰̜̝̦͚̑͗͌̕̕͟ĕ̶̡̧̟̠̫̣̲̣͆̐̓̾̈́͟r̛̙͚͓̭̍͂͒̔̅͗̾͜͢͠”**

and yeah. that sounds like ford to stan. stan shrugs, kicks his twiggy kid legs. “doesn’t sound so bad,” he says, and then, “don’t call him sixer”

“or what?” cipher laughs, and stan dreams of punching him again and again (and again and again and again and again)

* * *

a piece of metal falls through a rift. not sharp enough to cut, not big enough for much of anything really

when stan looks at his reflection, his pa stares out

(except pop never grew a beard, hated long hippie hair, always wore dark glasses to hide his glass eye, never had the scars on his face that stan does)

stan trades the mirror for a tiny flask of something the jellyfish _swears_ is chocoale but tastes like caramale to stan

* * *

it’s been so long

but deep down, stan still hopes, still believes, still _wants_ ford to come for him

(he will, he will, he will, he will, ~~he won’t~~ he will he will he will he will)

“you could go,” the hamster hums. “you could explore, and see-”

“nah,” stan says, shrugging. “only one place i wanna go and it ain’t out there.” he flaps his hand towards the nightmare realm. distantly, he can hear 8-ball crying. “gonna wait for my pickup. if it’s anywhere, it’ll be right here”

* * *

every so often, another ford passes through. bill gets… excited whenever they’re here. some of them fight him (and die and die and die), some just go from one portal to another. some bill catches, and paws through their minds until all stan can hear is ford’s screaming

(stan doesn’t- after the first one, he doesn’t want to meet the others. the first one’d punched him, shouted and cursed at him, sure that he was _his_ stan and that he’d- he’d what, opened the portal and followed him through? only calmed down when stan shoved him away and- something had snapped in stan’s head, and when he came back his eyes were gritty and sore and ford was sat away from him, staring into stan’s low fire. “sorry,” he’d said, through clenched teeth, like that was _enough_

“don’t worry about it,” stan had replied, because it _was_ )

one tells stan about the metal plate in his head, courtesy of something called jheselbraum, and stan fucking _delights_ in saying, “you’re a goddamned moron, ford,” like trusting strange and strangely knowledgable entities wasn’t how ford’d got them both into this damn mess

“you’d understand if you met her,” ford says, in that same old condescending uptight bullshit voice that stan hated and missed so _much_

“yeah, not gonna happen,” stan tells him, and it doesn’t

* * *

and then there is a portal opening, and stan _knows_ it’s for him. cipher turns his eye eagerly in stan’s direction, and all it takes is two, three strides for stan to reach it and-

throw a smoke bomb one way and a concussion grenade the other. old habits die hard after all

(there’s no ford waiting to greet him. of course not)


End file.
